


Glutton For Punishment

by grumpyphoenix



Series: Kinktober2018 [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Sex, Asphyxiation, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Biting, Bondage, Costumes, Creampie, Crossdressing, Dacryphilia, Edgeplay, Hair-pulling, Human Castiel, Jealousy, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Masochism, Mildly Dubious Consent, Not Beta Read, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Sadism, Spanking, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-02 05:06:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16298693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumpyphoenix/pseuds/grumpyphoenix
Summary: Castiel is trying out everything now that he's human. When he finds Dean's porn-stash, he wants to try some of it out, but Dean won't let him. So he has to goad Dean into it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I missed a lot of Kinktobers, so I decided to do them all at once: 10/3 Edgeplay,10/4 Dacryphilia, Spanking, 10/5 Sadism/Masochism, 10/6 Biting, 10/7 Praise-kink, 10/8 Angry Sex, 10/9 Bondage, 10/10 Hair-pulling, 10/11 Cross-dressing, 10/12 Costume, 10/13 Creampie, 1014 Asphyxiation
> 
> Not Beta Read- Written While exhausted and having to stop every five minutes while my family decided that traipsing around behind me was the thing to do, so I apologize if I missed anything.

Cas without his grace is a curious creature, prone to trying everything in excess. The first time he ate his way through one of every single ice cream flavor the local store had in their freezer, it  provoked a stomach turning bout of awful for a few days. Not having learned his lesson, the next week he did it again, but with the ice cream novelties. Dean will be happy if he never sees an ice cream sandwich again in his lifetime. Food was one thing, but drugs were something else, and he put his foot down the second time he found Cas stoned out of his gourd, eating peanut butter with a spoon and watching a twenty four hour marathon of  _ Golden Girls. _ The image of Castiel in the apocalypse, laughing at death and popping pills still haunts him.  Dean never questions the fact that Castiel does what he’s told until Sam asks why he was allowed to make that proclamation and have it stick. He waves his brother off, but it rattles around in his brain all the same, causing trouble. After food, tv and drugs, came porn. Hurt on a hunt and left behind by the brothers, Cas opened Dean’s unsecured laptop and started browsing. He watched the relatively vanilla  _ Busty Asian Beauties _ catalogue, and then he found Dean’s account on another site entirely. Nothing happens until breakfast, a few days after they return.

Dean’s staring into space, barely awake. Next to him, Sam is looking for another hunt like the obsessive he is. Everything has been fairly non-stop recently, but it’s fine. Work is good. Cas limps into the room and stares at him. After a few minutes, Dean finally just raises an eyebrow. Cas points at him accusingly.

“You’re bisexual!”

Dean pauses, coffee cup halfway to his face, ignoring the sounds of Sam in distress as he chokes on his Kale-Spinach-Egg-Health-Whatever.

“I know that,” he says, putting the cup down warily.

Cas narrows his eyes. “That’s not all. You’re into BDS-MMF”

Dean is across the room with his hand over Cas’ mouth before he can finish the sentence, hustling him out of the kitchen into his bedroom.

“Shh. I am not talking about this in front of Sam.” Dean looks down at Cas, trying to ignore the pliant way that Cas leans back against the wall and stares at him. Reluctantly, he takes his palm off his mouth.

“I  _ thought _ someone had been messing with my laptop. How much porn did you watch, anyway?”

“Well, you were gone for two weeks. I was bored.”

Dean laughs, throwing his head back and letting all the tension go. “Oh, fuck, Cas, you must be  _ amazingly  _ frustrated.”

Cas looks at him, shrugging. “Not really? I enjoyed all of it. I did get frustrated, as you said, so I took the car a few towns over and found someone to spend time with. I kept coming back to the other stuff, the bondage stuff. It looked…”

His cheeks get pink, and he looks at his hands. Dean makes and releases a fist, something ugly simmering underneath.

“You found someone to spend time with? Who?”

“I did. He’s sweet. It was good to see him again.”

Dean stares. “Again?”

“The other stuff, Dean. I want to try it, but Justin isn’t into that, so I wanted to ask you how someone finds a partner? The internet is less than helpful.”

A muscle in Dean’s jaw twitches. “Oh, Justin isn’t into that, huh? What  **is** _Justin_  into?”

Cas tilts his head and looks at him. Dean looks at his lips and then the beautiful blue trap of his eyes. All he’d have to do is lean down if he wanted to kiss him.

“No, no, that is not happening.”

A small frown line appears in the middle of Cas’ forehead.

“It will be just like the ice cream, except you don’t know what you’re doing. You’ll get hurt, or someone will take advantage of you. Porn is fantasy, Cas, not reality.”

Castiel nods slowly. “You’re probably right.”

A weight lifts from his chest, he can breath again. Smile again. He grabs Cas’ shoulder, warm, friendly.

“Hell yes, I’m right. It’s dangerous to just… go out there and glut yourself  like that with strangers.”

He’s such a hypocrite. He can see that Cas knows it, but all he does is smile at Dean.

“Of course, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Well, ok, Cas, it’s okay. I’m glad you understand.”

Cas smiles at Dean, “Then you’ll do it.”

Dean stills, caught there with the weight back on his chest. He wants to run. He licks his lips and stares at Cas, who just stares back at him with that wide-blue-eyed look that always makes him want to pin him to the wall and  _ take. _ Instead, he removes his hand, ignoring the hurt lurking around Cas’ mouth.

“No, and you’re gonna drop it too. Just… find something else to obsess over. You and I having sex - especially this kind of sex - would damage everything we have.”

Then he leaves, not waiting to hear Castiel's response. He’s seems to be walking - stalking, really, but they both know he’s running. Sam is waiting around the corner with a judgy look on his face.

“You won’t have to use the special angel shackles, at least.”

Punching his brother right now would distract from his cowardly retreat, so he just flips him off.

-

Castiel has his own laptop. Dean isn’t sure when he acquired it, he is fairly sure it’s stolen, but stolen new. Cas had set it up with Sam’s help, and spends a lot of time on it talking to that same guy. It’s even password protected, the discovery of which provoked an epic bar crawl and an unwise solo hunt for a few days. Dean doesn’t know why it bothers him, but it does. He’s at the end of the library, scowling, watching Cas as he chats online, when Sam comes up behind him and snorts. 

“You  _ cannot  _ be jealous.”

“I absolutely have no idea what you mean. Jealous of what, it’s a laptop. I don’t care, it means he’s not on mine anymore.”

His brother comes around to look in his face. “You’re kidding, right?”

Dean frowns. “Fine. He’s talking to that guy again. Whatever, I don’t own him.”

Sam pulls at his arm, towards the kitchen, and he comes reluctantly. Once they get there, Dean  sits while Sam gets a couple of beers and hands one over, watching him speculatively as he takes a swig.

“But you want to, don’t you?”

Dean makes a face “Ugh, Sammy, c’mon.” 

He rolls his eyes, “You’re being a child. We’ve lived in each other’s pockets for most of our lives. I know what you’re into. You want to own him, but you’re too fucked up about everything to do anything about it. He’s an adult, Dean. If you don’t give him what he wants, he’ll find someone who will.”

Dean runs his hands over his face. “Sam, I… I can’t. He’ll run if he sees that side of me. He has no idea what he’s asking for.”

Before Sam can respond, Cas sticks his head in. “Sam, I need one of the credit cards. I have a date next week!”

Sam, walking over with his wallet, asks “With the same guy?”

Cas bounces on his toes. “We’re going to Rocky Horror. It’s going to be fun. I’m getting a room for the night too, since it goes so late. Thanks, Sam!”

Dean watches him go, humming the Time Warp. One look at his face has Sam backing away carefully.

It turns out that you can lose your mind in seven days, no problem. Castiel is, much to his alarm, is dressing up like Frank N. Furter for this. He might even take seven days in actual hell over  catching Castiel trying on fishnets and sparkly heels, looking at himself in one of the only full length mirrors in the whole bunker, which he keeps picking up and moving for ‘better light’. Dean never knows when he’s going to innocently turn a corner and see Cas bent at the waist, smoothing the tights over his shapely calves.

He leaves his door open as he learns how to do makeup from youtube tutorials, and then starts just wearing eyeliner all the time. Dean practically lives in a cold shower. The night of the show has Dean on edge, which he masochically refuses to dull with alcohol. The smile he pastes on his face before the big reveal has Sam eyeballing him, but it drops off his face when Cas comes out.

Castiel’s daily runs and their active hunting lifestyle have turned his body into a delicious sculpture of lean, compact muscle. In the sparkly corset, tight panties, garter belt with fishnets and heels, he’s magnificent. Even Sam takes in a sharp breath. Castiel’s eyes, his fucking lips, the makeup - Dean starts out of his chair and is halfway to Cas before he realizes that he doesn’t have a plan.

Hoarsely, “You’re going on a date looking like that.”

Sam mutters his name in warning, but he can’t get a grip. Castiel smiles, turning for effect, and his  _ ass.  _ Dean is shaking, silently staring. Cas turns back around and catches his gaze. He smiles, a slow lazy upturn of his lips, and raises an eyebrow. Taunting him. Turning, leaving.

Castiel is halfway up the stairs before Dean finds his voice. “No.”

On the balcony, the ex-angel smiles and blows a kiss. “Come and stop me, then.”

The door closes on Dean’s violent outburst of cursing.

-

He takes his time. Castiel’s left a trail to follow, and Dean makes sure to break into his motel room before he does anything else.  The note that Castiel has left for him is instructive and puts a savage smile on his face.

He thinks about the note while he sits in the Impala, waiting for the end of the show, while he lurks in the shadows next to the theater, and he definitely thinks about it when he steps through the crowd of people in front of Castiel and the dead man walking that he’s chosen to date.

_ I consent to everything. I trust you. My safeword is Gabriel. _ It’s not anywhere near sane, but he’ll count it as consensual. He can’t think straight enough any more to care about the first half, and the second half...

The look on his face makes Castiel’s eyes dilate and his breath catch.  _Justin_ steps in front of him instinctively, which puts him up a notch or two in Dean’s estimation, but all the same...

“That’s a bold costume choice, my friend. I’m not sure it’s really a good look for you though. Gold  lamé shorts are really unforgiving.”

The guy lifts his chin and glares, which almost makes him laugh, but Castiel’s eyes are locked on Dean, and he is nearly hyperventilating. Dean smiles, possessive.

“I am not your friend. Fuck off, psycho.” Whad'ya know, this guy really means to fight him. That will take more time than he wants it to; Castiel’s half hard in those shorts already.

“That’s where we agree. Castiel, get in the car.” Cas takes a wobbly step forward, but the guy stops him. Cas lets it happen, damn him, raising a taunting eyebrow. Daring him. Fine.

“Cas isn’t going anyplace with you, asshole.”

By the way he’s holding himself now, Justin has obviously had some kind of martial arts training, and Dean would find it adorable if he wasn’t aching. With a sigh, he shrugs. The guy is literally asking for it. One punch, and Castiel’s pathetic date is out cold. He crowds close to Cas and tilts his chin up with one gentle finger. Looking him in the eyes, Dean is quiet while all the freaks run around them screaming and calling the police.

“Get in the car, Cas, or I’ll put you there myself. I prefer that you be conscious when we get to the hotel. At first, anyway.”

Cas can’t get into the Impala fast enough.

 

-

 

Inside the motel at last, he’s pinned Cas against the door. One hand buried in that silky dark hair forces his head to the side so Dean can bite his neck. He doesn’t go easy, lost a whirlwind of senses; Castiel smells too good, his body writhing, the way his skin tastes as he rolls his tongue over it. Every bite pulls a needy noise from him, until Dean finally pulls back, panting. Cas looks ravaged already, gazing up at Dean as he slow-blinks, eyes starry.  HIs neck is a mess of painful bruises, but he wants more. An animal savagery kept down for too long rips a snarl from Dean’s throat. He’s going to have so much goddamned fun. 

Dean strong arms Castiel across the room. Bent over, hands flat on the bed, legs spread. Dean looks at him, greedy for the sight. He starts with his hands, running them everywhere, making him moan and relax.

"Count,” he orders, half a second before he swats one of Cas’ perfect ass cheeks. This is the moment of truth.

Not missing a beat, Cas says with a hint of sass, “One.”

Good. So very, very good. He tells him so, watches Cas preen.

Then, “Two. Three. Four. Fi..five, six…”

The count goes on and on. Dean is lost in it, aware that Cas is shaking, that the his voice is faltering. Pausing for a moment, he strips off his shirt, listening to the heavy breathing with a smile. His hands hurt; it’s glorious.

“You’re so beautiful like this. Pain suits you, Castiel.” Cas groans, hanging his head.

Dean takes out his bowie knife and runs it up one of his arms, letting him see it, feel its point. Moving it up to his neck and tracing it along fear-pebbled skin,  he whispers, “What’s your safeword?”

Cas blinks, confused, still focused on the tip of the knife resting against an artery. “What?”

Leaning down, he whispers against the delicate shell of an ear, then the back of his neck, “What. Is your safeword? I’m only going to ask once, and I don’t want to ask at all, but I can’t continue until I know that you know it.”

He stammers, “Gabriel. It’s...it's Gabriel.”

“Uh huh." The knife nicks skin just so, releasing a drop of blood, but Dean is careful. Cas shudders. 

"Now, let’s be clear, angel. I’m going to hurt you. _I_ _want to hurt you._ I’m not going to check anymore to see if you need hand-holding. Are you calling it out?”

“No.” His voice is quiet, timid, and Dean isn’t having it.

“Castiel.  _ Are you calling it out? _ ”

“No! NO! I want it, I want more, please. Please, Dean, I want this so badly.” Dean stays silent, and Cas frantically tries to look at him.

Dean drags the knife up Cas’ thigh, snicking and cutting some of the fishnet. Cas stops talking. Very carefully, he cuts the panties off with it, baring his ass. It’s so pretty, but not nearly red enough. He opens his duffle and pulls out the paddle, saying quietly, “Count.”

When his ass is red and perfect, there’s a lull, letting them both catch their breath. Cas is shaking, but still holding onto the insolent smirk that has been driving him wild for days. The knife is back, the point running up along Castiel’s belly, leaving a thin red line. Neither of them breathe as it slides upwards, slicing through the ties on his corset one by one.

_ Pop  _ “That was a warm up, and your ass is a gorgeous shade of pink. Tomorrow, you’ll be trying to sit still, but you will be  _ so sore _ . You’re gonna feel my hands on you for days.”

_ Pop,  _ “The night is too short for me to hurt you in all the ways I want. In all the ways you deserve. But I will do everything we have time for; I’m going to break you. ”

_ Pop “ _ Then, Castiel, I am going to fuck you.”

The corset falls open, allowing him to slip it from Cas easily, leaving him bare except for the garter and heels. He licks his lips, runs his hands down all that bare skin, allowing himself to wallow in anticipation. Out of the duffle, he produces two floggers, but only shows one to Cas, enjoying the sudden crack in his bravado. This one looks scary, with its large leather tails, and it looks even more impressive when he takes a few swings to show off. The crack makes Cas wince.

Tense anticipation leads to relaxation again when Dean hits him. It’s just a little painful, but good - a slight sting and hard thud. No big deal. Then does it again, and again, setting a hypnotic rhythm to lull Cas into letting his guard down. With the other hand, he picks up the second flogger. This one, made of thin cord, looks unassuming. This is the one that hurts.

The first crack of it on Cas’ skin makes him jump and yell, but it’s followed by the other flogger, and he settles, confused. The happy, endorphin fueled space he’d been in before is on shaky ground, but Dean continues on with the first one until he relaxes again. This time he uses the corded flogger in a disjointed pattern that he can’t get used to. The pain makes him claw at the sheets and shout, finally trying to twist out of the way, standing. Dean is ready for it, firmly grasping him by the hair, growling harshly in his ear.

“No. Get back down there, before I forget to be polite. You gave yourself to me, remember?”

Dean pushes him back down, kicks his legs apart until he’s off balance, forced to fall to his elbows on the bed, and without warning or preparation, beats Castiel with the corded flogger. He’s sweating with exhilaration and hard as a rock when he stops. Cas is crying and trying to breathe, his back a mess of angry red welts.

“You are so beautiful when you cry,” Dean caresses Cas’ cheek, rubbing his tears between his fingers. Somewhere inside him, a part of him is whispering to stop. He’s gone too far. He could pull away from the brink before it’s too late.

Except. Castiel is, dazed and whimpering, trying to fuck the mattress. Dean’s name on his lips like a prayer.

As Dean removes his belt and his pants, he reflects that there’s no coming back from this now, not ever. He picks up the corded flogger and allows himself a moment to indulge, running his nails over the welts. Cas lets out the most exquisite moan, and Dean steps back.

“Count. If you falter or lose your place, we start over at one. Let’s try to get to ten, okay, angel?”

They don’t make it to ten, but it isn’t for lack of trying. Castiel is a mess, openly sobbing and apologizing. He’s pulling out his own hair in an effort not to twist and grab the flogger. Dean crouches next to the bed and roughly pulls his face up so he can look in Cas’ eyes.

“You’re doing so well, beautiful. Your instincts are perfect, it can’t be easy not to let your body fight back. Do you want help?”

At Castiel’s tearful nod, Dean rises, leaving a kiss against the back of his neck, and goes to the duffle. He shows Cas the leather cuffs before firmly manhandling him into them. Arms stretched out on the bed over his head, cuffs expertly secured to the frame of the bed with rope, Castiel is poised precariously with his feet still on the floor. It presents his ass so perfectly that Dean can’t help but kneel and lick.

He gets lost there, listening to Cas’s helpless moaning. He’s not done yet, though, so reluctantly he stands. “Count. No, shhhh, angel, it’s okay. Just to five. You can do it, I know you can.”

Dean takes a deep breath, letting him stew in it before hitting him. Hard. Harder than he has yet. There’s blood on Cas’s back, and he yells “One!”

All he wants is to bury himself inside Cas, but he has to make it hurt, he wants to see more blood. Harder, again, receiving, “Two!”

He’s sobbing again now, and Dean almost drops the flogger. Three more. Only three more. He aims for a welt and hits with dead-on accuracy. Cas shrieks through his tears. For a moment Dean thinks he’s going to have to start over, but he waits for him to stop, finally hearing a muffled ‘thr-ee. Three.”

The next hit is harder than he’s done yet, Cas starts pulling frantically at the rope, but it won’t budge. When he finally asks out loud if he’s going to have to start over, Dean gets his number “four, four, fuck you, four.”

One more, and it is sublime. With all his strength, he lays this one down atop all the others, crossing it on a diagonal, and is rewarded with screams that don’t stop as Cas tries to free himself, but can’t. Dean runs the ends of the flogger over angry skin. “What was that?”

“Five, five, five,  _ please don’t start over, five…please don’t make me do it again!!” _

Dean drops the flogger, running his hands through the blood, over the cuts and welts, reveling in the thrashing and swearing. Then he lifts Castiel’s hips, helping him onto his knees on the bed. For a moment he gets to rest there, cheek against the sheet as he pants. Dean busies himself with shortening the rope so that he’s slowly ratcheted up by his arms, on his knees with his torso suspended by tension. Dean spreads his knees wide, and adjusts him to suit his own needs; those lovely thighs are spread open so far that his hole is easily accessible.

He sheds his underwear and finds the lube which has fallen to the bottom of his duffel. He pauses to feast his eyes on Castiel, muscles pulled taught, helplessly waiting with a tear-stained face. His cock hangs heavy and full. It wouldn’t take much to finish him.

Taking the lube with him, Dean crowds close, wrapping one hand around Cas’ cock while he pushes one slicked finger into his ass with the other. Whispering filthy-sweet words, he jacks him hard and fast. Seizing uncontrollably, he comes with a howl. When he’s done, Dean backs off and watches.

The haze of lust slowly clearing from Cas’ eyes comes with a clarity that sets off everything dubious and horrible in Dean’s soul. He tries to get free, finds he can’t, and the silence from the other side of the room fills him with doubt and a sliver of real fear. Dean watches him debate getting off the bed, or at least moving towards the headboard to lessen the slack. The speed with which Cas considers and discards this option is instructive. He learns fast, his angel. He takes this time to slick up his cock with lube, stroking to take the edge off.

Dean silently waits until the pain starts to kick in for real, until it looks unbearable for Castiel to be in this position any more. He gets up onto the bed, hands on his hips, pulling him back until the rope creaks and Cas cries out in anguish. Now he can take him.

He makes himself push into Castiel slowly, mostly to deny the animal inside him demanding that he rut, claim, take. Also, the overstimulated groan he gets in response is almost too good to bear. When he’s inside Cas completely, he starts to move, not letting him adjust or get used to it.

“You…” Dean grabs Cas’ hair and pulls his neck back. He’s in blind agony now. Dean wants more. He wants everything.

“You’re going to break up with that asshat.”

Cas is so hot and tight, like no one else he’s ever fucked. Dean is going slowly, savoring it all,  but Cas… he has the goddamned audacity to shake his head. 

He can’t move much, just a little quick back-and-forth. He can’t talk well either, but he manages a whisper. “No.”

A wave of sheer rage washes through him, and Dean loses all semblance of control, covering Cas’ nose and mouth with one hand, as he fucks into him savagely. “Shut up, shut up.  _ You belong to me.” _

Underneath him, Castiel tries to struggle for air. The panicked look on his face pushes every thought out of Dean’s head except the drive to take. So he does. Dean uses Castiel’s body, letting go just before he loses consciousness and clamping onto his shoulder with his teeth, rutting until he lets go with triumphant cry, pumping into Cas for what feels like forever.

Dean watches his come drip out onto the bed, fucking his finger in and out of it while Cas hangs limply from the cuffs.

Chasing away the panicked thoughts of having crossed every line, he mutters, “Just for that, I should make you clean my cock off.”

Exhausted, sweaty, and wrung out, Castiel lifts his head and opens his mouth. His sense of calm falling back into place, Dean comes around to cup and lift his chin, dick in hand.

“That's my angel.”


	2. As you Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have some things to talk about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For AgnesT.

Castiel lies on the bed, empty-eyed and quiet while Dean detaches the rope from the cuffs. He decides to leave those on for a few more minutes. Guiding his angel to his feet, Dean replaces the top sheet - they’ve made a right mess of the fitted one, but this will be a little nicer to lie on anyway. The task finished, he sits Cas down again and carefully removes his heels along with  the tattered remains of his garter belt and fishnets. He doesn’t respond much until Dean tries to take the cuffs off, violently yanking his hands away. 

Dean keeps his face neutral through the sudden knots in his stomach. “Okay, you can leave them on for now. C’mon, Cas, lie down. I need to grab something, I’ll be right back.”

He lies down as directed, but Dean can see him starting to shake, a quiet whimper bubbling up in the back of his throat. Cas is trying to keep it to himself, and the churning in his gut just gets worse.  _ What has he done?  _ Pushing that down for now, he changes his plans. Climbing up onto the bed, Dean finds the scratchy motel blanket and pulls it over the two of them.

Tenderly kissing the back of Castiel’s head, Dean makes soothing noises, stroking his arm from the shoulder down to the cuff. He can’t be a proper big spoon until he cleans Cas up, so instead  he tucks his knees under Cas’ and hooks one ankle between his. Slowly, his breath evens out, his body starts to relax, and it gets downright toasty under the blanket.

“I want to get up and get some supplies to clean you up, and get you something to drink. Is that okay?”

It takes a long time for him to answer, and the words are slurred when he does. “Yes. You’re… you’re coming back?”

Dean props himself up on one arm, kissing Cas’ cheek. “No one could keep me from you. I’ll be right here in the room, I promise.”

Cas nods, closing his eyes, and Dean gingerly removes himself  to collect what he needs. When he comes back, he coaxes Cas into a sitting position so he can drink some juice, take some tylenol. After, he’s able to get him onto his stomach, but touching the cuffs again brings an angry snarl.

Dean sighs, anxiety clawing up through his throat. He keeps his voice steady somehow.  “Okay. But we’re going to talk about this in a few minutes. Right now, I’m going to clean you up. It might smart.”

Cas makes a noncommittal sound into the pillow. Dean smiles fondly to himself as he starts to clean his back with a damp cloth. Tough guy, his Cas. Sure enough, though he hisses a little, the process is done in silence. After being cleaned of blood, his back is dramatically bruised, but not as bad as it looked in the heat of passion. He leans down to kiss Cas’ temple before spreading antibiotic cream and efficiently putting down some bandages. Years of this with his brother have made the process easy. Dean eyeballs the cuffs.

He lies down on the bed again, pulling Cas to lie on his side, facing him. Dean doesn’t like the complete silence or the look in his eyes once he can see his angel properly. Experimentally, he touches the cuffs and gets shoved backwards in a move that he doesn’t see coming until he’s windmilling a little to keep from falling off the bed.

“No.” The tone in his voice makes Cas fall still immediately. Dean feels bad, but something’s wrong, and being gentle isn’t working.  _ I broke him, I broke him, what the hell is wrong with me…. _

“Give me your hands. I promise I won’t try to take them until you give me permission. But we have to talk, and I want to hold your hands while we do.”

His tone brooks no argument, and Cas responds automatically, giving his hands over. It makes him ache. “May I kiss you?”

Castiel nods vaguely. Dean leans forward. He means it to be a light brush against his lips, but Cas suddenly comes to life again, pressing against him and deepening it to a passionate fire-filled make out session that lasts….an eternity probably. He doesn’t know, his head is spinning. Finally he pulls back, looking into blue. There’s a beat.

“Talk to me about the cuffs.”

A shadow falls over his face and he offers up his wrists. “I’m sorry.”

Dean shakes his head, pulling Cas’ hands up against his heart. “No, sweetheart, no need to apologize, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

His face crumples, and tries to yank his hands away. “Stop, you don’t mean it.”

Dean takes his chin in one hand firmly. He ignores the smug voice inside him.  _ Worthless. Look what you did.  _ “Talk to me.”

Cas narrows his eyes. “You don’t do relationships, you didn’t want to do this anyway until I goaded you into it, and then you keep calling me things like sweetheart. You don’t mean that. It hurts.”

Dean tries to talk, but Cas brushes him off, blinking away tears furiously. “I just want to keep them on a little longer before I have to let it go.”

His pulse thunders in his ears. For a moment everything swims around him. He can see Cas, but all he can do is think about how much he’s fucked this up, like everything else. Blindly panicking, he tries to say something, anything, but he can’t. Now Cas is holding  _ him, _ and even that’s wrong, he’s done that wrong because he has be the caretaker right now, not force poor Castiel to take care of  _ him. _

He tries to push Cas off, but he doesn’t let go, pulling Dean’s head down so he can hear his heartbeat. Slowly, every beat brings him back to himself. When he raises his head, he’s uncomfortably aware that his face is wet.

Castiel, though, is smiling. “Well, look at us, quite the pair.”

He laughs, a tinge of hysteria in it. “I was sure that I screwed everything up. This is not how this kind of thing is supposed to go.”

“Yes, I gathered there is a lot more negotiation involved. I’m sorry, Dean, I just didn’t think…”

Dean pulls Cas’ hands up and kisses his palms. “Stop, please. Can we just…”

“Move forward?”

“Wh-what?” Wrong footed, again.

“Move forward. With whatever this is, with us.”

Relief washes through him, relaxing every tense muscle in his body. “Hell yes, can we? I honestly…”  

He clears his throat, but everything still comes out roughly. There’s too much, far too much to hide it all. He’s so damn tired of hiding it all.  “What I said - I meant it, I want you to break up with Justin. It drives me wild, thinking about you with anyone else.”

Narrowed eyes. The expression is so much like the angry expression he had as an Angel that it would set him off again if he wasn’t wrung out. “I break up with Justin, and you don’t see anyone else either.”

Dean can’t look away. “Yes. Yes Cas.”

“Can we do this again?”

“Not until we’ve really sat down and talked about it.”

“But after?”

“After - “ Dean tangles his fingers in Cas’ hair and pulls his head gently to the side to bare his neck. Every bruise he’s left gets a sweet brush of lips. “After, it would be my honor to hurt you in any way you desire, angel. I’m yours.”

Castiel’s smile is blinding. He offers the cuffs up to Dean. “Good. Hold me until I fall asleep?”

Dean releases the cuffs and gathers him close. “As you wish.”

Sleepy and dreamy, Cas mutters “I understood that reference.”

Dean strokes Castiel’s hair and listens to him breathe until he too, sinks into a blissful sleep.


End file.
